The Rebellious Slave Ch. 02

All that hard work, all that sacrifice, and now...now this.

Tamius looked eerily stoic atop the platform, kneeling on a set of throw pillows with her arms chained high above her head. While the surrounding crowd screamed and jeered mere inches from her face, she only glowered at the them with eyes made of poison and ice. Meanwhile, a pair of Martkorp handlers were desperately trying to hold the patrons back and protect their charge, but they were very nearly overwhelmed. Everyone wanted a look at the "last general to fall" and more importantly, get a rise out of her. But Tamius had nothing for the mob other than disdain and her cool demeanor only fueled their bloodlust. Suddenly, one of the patrons broke free and spat directly into her face, but she didn't so much as flinch. As one of the Martkorp handlers began screaming for security, the other gently wiped away the glob of saliva sliding down her cheek. Afterwards, he offered his charge a few sips from a bottle of water and when he pressed it to her lips, she gulped it down gratefully.

Who else? Kara wondered, her eyes flickering back and forth between the hall and the platforms, trying to look past the crowd and get a good look at whoever was chained up just out of sight. Who else? Who else!?

Briefly, Kara thought she recognized Tremilar Aldius, a bearded monster of a man and a well-renowned military mechanic who had, by some miracle, managed to keep their vehicles in working order, even after it became impossible to import parts from outside the city. And she saw Arianna Maysion too, a weapons designer from Scorce who had snuck into Gardok mid-war to help Callihistra construct explosives. Kara even got a glimpse of Dryden Lane, a dark-eyed intelligence expert who had vanished without a trace soon after Gardok had fallen, though she now supposed she knew why.

That's odd...

Now that she was paying attention, it seemed that Kara was surrounded on all sides by famous medics, spies, and soldiers—war heroes she'd seen on TV or in newspapers—all chained up and looking both angry and a little afraid. That's when the dots finally started to connect and form a coherent picture. Kara could hear Catherine's voice in her mind now, telling Mr. Charthe how embarrassing it would be to have her and the violinist on the auction block and angrily lamenting that they would "stick out."

No...no, it can't be...

In that instant, Kara was done looking at the other slaves. Now, she only had eyes for the prospective buyers, mingling among themselves, sipping champagne, and laughing heartily. In the sea of color and noise that made up the main floor, it was hard to pick out individual faces, but eventually, she saw one she recognized. Lord Algeris had supposedly planned the original attack on Gardok and had been a mainstay of the anti-war posters that had started circulating just before the White Horse had taken power. Then, in the same little group, she saw General Myiat, the woman who'd finally captured Gardok's south side, before joining up with the offensive on the east. As her eyes flitted across the room, Kara could see dozens upon dozens of faces she recognized and, more importantly, the military sigils several had pinned onto their evening wear.

This isn't an ordinary auction... Kara realized in terror. This is a conquest auction!

Kara had heard stories of Isleydor's conquest auctions, spoken in whispered tones far below the streets of Gardok. She had spent a week hiding out in the city's sewers immediately after it had fallen, trying to navigate her way to the Middle River Forest and into Nardia. Most of that time she'd spent alone, but on a few occasions, she'd stumbled across a trusted party and had shared their campfire in exchange for a little bread or wine. Those were dark days. Isleydor's various slaving companies had all been competing for the most valuable, high-profile targets and the city had been absolutely crawling with hunters. The acoustics of the sewers would carry any and all noise with sickening clarity and there was rarely more than an hour or two free from all the screaming. It was only natural for Gardok's refugees to be preoccupied with their seemingly inevitable capture and they'd often traded rumors. Some of them were worse than others and it was impossible to separate the truth from the embellishments, but Kara had a good grasp of the basics.

It all makes so much sense now!

Isleydor was a notoriously imperialistic nation and after a successful invasion, their slaving companies would round up the most stubborn of the opposition and sell them off to the elite. Surrounded on all sides by the best and brightest of the White Horse Rebel Alliance, Kara was trapped in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Drunk on victory and wine, the patrons eyeing her were among the most ruthless of Isleydor's top military personnel and clearly eager to purchase, enslave, and brutalize the opposing "Callihistra Scum" who had caused them so much trouble during the war. Unfortunately for Kara, there was no telling if the circling sharks would be able to differentiate her from their real prey.

That's why we're 'embarrassments' only fit for a raffle, Kara realized, thinking back to the violinist from her medical workup. Our part in the war was minimal and these people are only interested in revenge. But there had been other clues, too—things Kara had overlooked, but now understood. Martkorp, for example, had sent her to the auction block without ever bothering to train her, which she had found suspicious at the time, but not worth dwelling on. And now I finally get it, Kara thought, feeling sick. Isleydor's dignitaries don't want us trained. They want to break us themselves.

"Hey...hey!" a voice beside Kara suddenly cried, and that seemed to snap her out of it. "Don't ignore me, kid. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, alright?" Kara snapped, turning around, but almost immediately, she felt guilty for lashing out. "I'm...I'm sorry. It's just that...I was supposed to be at a Captly's auction. Not here. Anywhere but here."

Up until now, Kara had largely ignored the slave who knelt beside her. It wasn't a conscious decision on her part and she hadn't meant to be rude, but with so much else going on, making friends hadn't exactly been her top priority. But now, surrounded on all sides by power hungry enemies hell-bent on retribution, perhaps a friend wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Glancing at the plaque beside her, Kara saw that the woman's name was Alyssa Terrance and apparently, she was a weapons specialist from Recon & Intelligence. At the moment, they were both wearing the same embarrassing uniform, but other than that, they were nothing alike. Alyssa had short, electric blue hair and was covered from head to toe in scars of all kinds: a few bullet wounds, a stab mark, and a spray of burns, among others. Kara winced, imagining all the medical work that must have gone into keeping the woman alive. But the wounds were charming in their own twisted way and seemed to go well with the tattoos covering the rest of her body. Alyssa had a cluster of dark, multi-colored cobwebs inked onto the right side of her neck and somehow, she'd managed to wipe most of the makeup from her face onto her arm. Together with all her old injuries, the badly smeared mascara and eyeshadow made her look very slightly crazy.

"Wow that...sucks," Alyssa agreed, and she gave Kara a sympathetic glance. "Tough break, kiddo. That really, really sucks."

"Do you know how I might be able to get out of here?" Kara asked, suddenly feeling hopeful that this person—someone capable and famous, surely—might know enough to help her. "Please?"

"Eh...it's not likely," Alyssa told her, grimacing in a way that looked...thoughtful, at least? "But if you're last-minute filler—"

"Filler?"

"If they can't get all their slots filled in time, they'll just throw in someone random to try and beef up their lineup," Alyssa explained. "No offense, but if you were picked up by Captly and their ill-equipped, incompetent fucking—"

"No, you're right," Kara sighed. "I'm a nobody."

"Where were you stationed?"

"In Gardok, on the East Side."

"Ah, you were one of Tamius' then," Alyssa grinned. "Congratulations."

"Congratulations? On what?"

"On being the last side to fall. I lost a bet over that, actually. I owe a man back in Scorce a hot meal and a bottle of fine scotch."

"A scotch," Kara groaned. "I'm going to miss those sorts of things."

"It's not over till it's over."

"What...what are you talking about?" Kara asked, more incredulous than anything else. "It is over."

"That's what they think and honestly, it's better that way," Alyssa replied, nodding toward the main floor. "But, here's the thing about keeping a dangerous pet in your house...you only have to forget the latch once and you're dead."

"You were saying I'm probably...filler?" Kara prodded, trying to get them back on track and focused on more realistic methods of escape. "How would that help me?"

"Well, if you're filler, it's possible no one will end up buying you," Alyssa shrugged. "Most of these guys are in the market for vengeance and bragging rights, so being a nobody might be your saving grace. In that case, I suppose you'll end up back at Martkorp. Still not great, but better than being sold to one of these pieces of shit."

Alyssa emphasized that last bit a little too loudly, and Kara watched in horror as the nearest table of guests—smoking, drinking, and having a good time—actually stopped their chatter and turned around to look at them!

"What are you doing?" Kara whispered, her voice rife with anxiety. "They'll hear you!"

"Good, fucking pigs."

This time, one of the men at the table narrowed his eyes at them and flipped Alyssa off, but she only smiled back and returned the favor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kara cried, even more frantic now, trying to keep her voice low and failing. "These people are Isleydor's military. Are you trying to get us in trouble?"

"Really?" Alyssa scoffed. "All this, coming from the girl giving Charlotte—Charlotte fucking Reigner—shit?"

"Charlotte?"

"That woman you were screaming at? In the red dress? Nice form, by the way. 'You break it, you buy it'? Beautiful stuff."

"That...that was different," Kara tried, looking back over at Elandra and feeling her heart grow cold. "That was before I knew what...what this is. And who these people are."

"Oh, they fucking love it," Alyssa laughed. "This is all a game to them. A spectacle. A show. It really gets their dicks hard."

"Please, please shut up!"

"Oh, relax," Alyssa groaned. "Here, I'll show you. Watch this..."

The second Alyssa opened her mouth to shout something else obscene, Kara reached out her arms in an attempt to cover it up and perhaps save them, but then the chains holding her went taut.

Oh, fucking hell...!

"Hey!" Alyssa cried, and there was nothing Kara could do but watch it happen. "I said, hey! Any of you assholes want to bring your secondhand smoke over here? I'm fucking dying of withdrawal!"

The entire table turned around again, looking less than amused, and the man from earlier gave them an annoyed little frown.

"Fuck off, Terrance; you're only embarrassing yourself."

"Fuck you too, Benette."

"I said, shut it, Terrance. Do I need to call over a handler?"

"Oh, that's no fun," Alyssa pouted, and she gave them all an exaggerated, sulky expression, like that of a recently scolded child. "Come on, just one fucking cigarette, for god's sake? Or a shot of whiskey even? Karl's been nursing that poor drink for thirty minutes now and he either needs to put it out of its misery, or man up and order a martini like the prissy little fuck he knows he is."

The man who'd been reprimanding Alyssa tried to hold it in, but a few seconds later, he burst into laughter. The only blond-haired fellow at the table had turned red as a tomato and now the rest of the group was roaring with glee, until they were all crying and gasping for air amid their hysteria.

"See?" Alyssa bragged, looking smug. "Swear to god, it gets their dicks hard."

Welp, this is great... Kara thought, tugging on her chains once again and finding that, same as always, they wouldn't budge. I'm at a conquest auction, and I'm also chained next to a lunatic. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"And have you seen the outfits they put us in?" Alyssa grumbled, glaring down at her uniform as if it were being loud and gaudy on purpose. "Do I look like a fucking circus performer to you? Do I look like I can wrap my legs behind my head?"

Alright, Kara thought. At least that's one thing we can agree on...

"And honestly, I think this bra counts as false advertising. They gave me a padded one and it's only 10% titty in here, best case scenario."

And now we're back to being a lunatic again...

In her state of near panic and frustration, Kara didn't realize that she was being eyed by one of the prospective buyers until he was only a few feet away, fidgeting awkwardly in the periphery of her vision. He was a short man, maybe even shorter than Kara, with ink black hair and equally black eyes, wearing a green military uniform. He continued to stare at Kara, but not with lust or malice. He looked...confused, as if reaching into a foggy memory whose details had been blurred long ago. Hesitantly at first and then with more and more certainty, the man stepped toward Kara and gripped her face in his hands. She cringed and tried to wrench herself free, but the man refused to let go.

"Um...," Kara tried, not sure what to say and yet, needing to say something, because there was a strange man grabbing at her and she couldn't just pretend it wasn't happening, right? "Can I...can I, uh, help you?"

The man let go, stepped back, and squinted his eyes at her. Kara waited while he walked over to the far left and then the far right, still pondering her...still eerily staring. Then, he stopped. His face lit up with sudden recognition, and a triumphant grin crossed over his face. In that instant, Kara could feel her stomach drop, but she wasn't sure why.

"You're that explosives girl," the man said, his voice quiet at first, then louder and with more and more conviction. "Yes, yes! That girl from the train!"

"I think you must have the wrong person," Kara told him, trying to be firm and afraid that, if she wasn't, she just might end up bearing the brunt of someone else's escapades. But then she stopped mid-thought. This man did look slightly familiar and in a sudden rush, the memory came flooding back to the forefront of Kara's mind. "Oh, fuck."

"Who here can shoot a gun?"

Once, Elandra's medical unit had been gifted a few soldiers to protect the secondary school where they'd hastily put together a half-assed sort of hospital. But Isleydor's forces had almost overtaken the city. The south side was gone, and the west side as well. If General Tamius Sue were to hold onto Gardok's east side, she would need every man available and that meant taking away what little protection Elandra's unit had held dear. Now, the medical team was all alone, hunched in the basement of the school as the air raids from above shook the ground. The afternoon cleanup would be brutal, as usual, and with medical supplies running low, Kara doubted most of her patients would survive. Exasperated, she tried focusing on Elandra and whatever else the Commanding Medic had in mind.

"Come on, don't be shy," Elandra demanded, impatient. "Who here can shoot a damn gun?"

A few medics raised their hands wearily, and Kara raised her hand as well. Elandra hadn't asked if she could shoot a gun well, only if she could shoot one at all. She had never been particularly violent, but her Uncle Florence had insisted she learn. As one of Callihistra's foremost weapons specialists and a demolitions expert, he'd demanded it once the war had begun. Her parents—both career medics and pacifists—had protested, but Kara had learned anyway. Now she knew the basics, but to be honest, she knew very little beyond those.

"Alright, then." Elandra skimmed her unit carefully. "Trundle and Caseway, after the raids are over, head upstairs. There's some ammunition in the cafeteria we've been gifted. It isn't much, so use it sparingly, okay? Your new job is to protect this hospital with everything you've got and only after are you to work with patients."

"But, Commander..." Trundle began nervously. "We need every man working on medical duty if we are going to save these people—"

Elandra suddenly hit the back wall with her fist, shutting Trundle's protests down almost immediately. These days, the tiniest hint of insolence could set the Commander off and Trundle had every reason to be nervous.

"If all our stable patients die because of an attack, all our work is out the window," Elandra hissed, and Trundle winced. "We can't save everyone, and you need to get that through your thick skull. Do I make myself clear, Trundle?"

"Yes, ma'm, absolutely!" Trundle sputtered and when looked Elandra glared over at him, he averted his eyes, opting to stare into the concrete of the ground instead. "Orders are orders..."

"Good. Okay, then. Who here has experience with explosives?"

This time, Kara was the only one to raise her hand. Growing up in the countryside beside her Uncle Florence and his farm, she had learned quite a bit about explosives. Though her parents had forbidden it, she'd often snuck over to his house to build bombs and then set them off. They had only been small ones—meant for blowing up dummies made of straw and dirt or stacks of rotten vegetables—but her parents had forbidden it anyway. Whenever Kara had been caught, they'd grounded her and chewed out Uncle Florence for good measure, but that had never deterred the pair for more than a month or two. Together, they'd spent many an afternoon blowing up old stuffed animals, heaps of garbage, and other odds and ends, ducking for cover before the explosions burst forward, leaving the pair laughing ecstatically. It had been great fun, but Uncle Florence had also thought it was practical.

Demolition is a very valuable skill, Kara, her Uncle Florence had told her. I know your mother doesn't want me to teach you this stuff—I know she says you don't need to know this stuff—but trust me, kiddo. Someday, medic or not, this shit will be useful.

And now, here was Kara—in a nearly demolished "hospital," one without military protection—the only medic on her team who could build a bomb.

"Excellent, Kara!" Elandra told her, clearly surprised that anyone at all had raised their hand. "Stay here with me. The rest of you, clear out for a while!"

Without needing further prodding, the remainder of the medical unit quickly filed outside and then Kara was all alone with Elandra. Feeling a little worried and very much confused, she watched as the Commanding Medic unrolled a map on the rickety table before her, carefully laying a stone at each corner and smoothing it out as best she could. Leaning forward so as to get a better view, Kara could see that it was horribly faded and Elandra had scribbled little notes all over it in bright red ink.

"There's no time to spare," Elandra told her, and Kara could see something resembling desperation in her eyes. "Do you see this railway?"

Kara watched as Elandra ran her finger across a thin gray squiggle, which ran down from the northern reaches of Isleydor and into Gardok, crossing over the Larrian Mountains in the process.